Comport with dignity continued

JB suggested I had comported myself with dignity as I described the funeral to him.
As I drove G and I towards the church having left the pub later than intended, I saw the hearse approaching. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" was all that was coming out of my mouth. I sort of laughed too, arriving late or just on the cusp of lateness. How that would have infuriated my dad. But also I didn't want T and her daughters to have something over me or get there and have all the limelight. That's not very dignified in language or attitude now is it. Anyway I pulled over thrusting the responsibility of the car into G's hands and legged it down the road as the hearse was slightly delayed trying to park. I was able to casually walk along beside T's car (my dads car too).
Actually I'm awake during the early hours riddled with thoughts of not studying, not having got my FDAP thing done and thinking about the inheritance I believe I should get and probably won't. It's eating at me. I really need to find a way to step aside from the negative projection and the attachment - it links strongly with my mum and wanting to have things, clawing her back.
Anyway, T was too distraught after all to follow the coffin in and went in with her daughters holding her up. I went in too. And I decided to sit in the front row on the same side as them. I considered sitting on the opposite side but somehow it didn't feel right to me.
So there was D (eldest), T, D (youngest) then me, A, K and D's (youngest) husband. At the seating point D (eldest) asked if I'd move along to allow the husband to sit next to his wife. I just looked surprised and D backed down. She wasn't being horrible but realised what she was asking.
As I was sitting there I started to shake. I could not control it. I tried to stop it but couldn't. A moved in closer to me which was helpful to feel her but I still couldn't stop. I was conscious of everyone behind me, actually G was behind me and the entire row was made up of P, R, M, G, G, and then there was JB and his partner J. I looked behind a couple of times to see if I could see J and S. At the end they were there. I didn't really notice anyone. It's odd.
Anyway eventually I managed to meditate and that helped. The shaking stopped.
All the way through the service I found it strange how much the vicar seemed to be looking directly at me. There were intense, long looks. I have an inclination to phone him. He said that my dad was a very private man. G had leaned across and pointedly said to the vicar "And I'd like to introduce you to Pamela, his daughter!", when the vicar was speaking with T. The vicar said "we have net" but I am pretty certain he hadn't realised I was my dads daughter as T had introduced him to everyone else in the room as my dad was lying there dying but not me. D (eldest) introduced me but when it came to saying the part "J's daughter", T was already talking over her. I am pretty certain he didn't hear.
Anyway so the vicar looked at me a lot. This was noticed by G A and M. G thought it was sinister. I thought he was looking deeply at me. I would like to know from him if I was imagining it but I don't think so as others noticed it too.
So the service was brief. I was horrified that T had the service booklet printed with J B R when his name was B J R. And the same on the plaque on the coffin. Did he not tell her the truth? Or was this her being controlling again? Who knows?
At the grave side T and J came over and then E and M. J and S were there. Of course this was all after the coffin had been lowered. The vicar said to T, I've done all I can here now T. M noticed this too and it did seem a strange thing to say. He seemed to leave awkwardly. But he held my hand. I just think there's something in it. Or maybe I'm looking for something. I want to be noticed. I want there to be something more than just being excluded again. It was always like that with my dad and then always like that with me, needing something just a little bit more to be considered less than nothing.
I gave PW just the biggest hug. I don't really remember him but thank goodness he had known me as a child. There is something quite special about that man though. I spoke with him on Saturday and he really has a spiritual feel to him. He's invited to meet me for lunch in March. He has an op on Tuesday and I so hope he makes it through. A because I want to have a connection with him, due to this amazing feel I have for him and B because I am hoping he can tell me more about my dad in Korea. Why he received the presidents citation from the horses mouth as so to speak rather than Wikipedia. He was there with my dad in Korea. I wonder if he can tell me about my dad being captured and being in a POW camp. How did that happen? How did he get out?
Anyway I was introduced to a retired policeman BD by JB, I introduced him to my surrogate mother G. I'm not sure she would have appreciated being my surrogate mum.
Then we went to the United Reformed church where T had laid on tea and cakes. It was there that I learnt from A that M had a funny experience at the grave-side. As T had started to turn around, G, R and A started to back away. M had been standing with them, not noticing they had shuffled off to avoid having contact with T, M was left there alone, face to face with T as she was saying"who are all these women?", to which M said friends of P's. I found it amusing for poor M, being left there to carry the can. M felt very sad for T. It grates a bit. But I feel sadness and compassion for her too when I put aside my resentment and anger. I am practising putting that aside and my jealousy too. I feel possessive and cannot get my claws into anything to possess. Everything I've tried over these past 11 years has failed miserably as my dad would not let me. Things we would usually have laughed about together, he just didn't. It was most disconcerting. I had no power over my dad at all and it seems as if she had it all. His anger was one thing but I think he caved in to her.
I wanted T to see J and S and not confuse them as one of my friends, but people from the past with my mum. It amused me that they were late. That was one of the things that infuriated my dad about the F's. I wanted her to know there were people there from the past that her cousin L says she so didn't want to acknowledge. No wonder there monologues about not stopping my father. I think she possibly did the opposite to what she has insisted. In her monologue down the phone when G was sitting there, she repeatedly said that she had never stopped my dad from seeing me, in fact suggested regularly that he invite me there for something to eat etc. She said she had never said a bad word against me except about never sending cards for birthdays or Christmas. She said it was my dads choice. The way she has gone on and on about that on the couple of occasions there has been contact with her makes me think she insists too much. Anyhow I get the impression that my dad was flimsy under her influence. It's strange really. But I also wonder if the previous years with my mum were like that. There was the angry stubborn side of him but also the compliant side to him, keeping so much simmering in anger close to the surface. He was generally an angry man. I am not surprised, his military training and experiences drawn from his angst of younger years and augmenting the levels of anger. What he had to endure would surely mess up the brain wiring!
Nonetheless it was horrid being on the receiving end of all the mixed up messages.
So at the reception I think I was dignified. I chatted with people and enjoyed very much the little table in the middle where my mum was being discussed, her great parties. I was a bit flittish, mixing here and mixing there, never really hearing a complete discussion through with anyone. I was aware of the attention G was paying A. I asked him if he was flirting with her. He has a real affinity for her he says because of the drinking. A herself said how awkward she was feeling, not able to socialise easily. I had the same issue. I have no idea how to network the room and socially chit and chat. And A didn't have her alcohol crutch either because she would know that she might be inappropriately drunk but without awkward and craving even more. I recognise that pattern.
I am surprised I didn't share about that on Friday at the AA meeting, when talking about getting through the ordeal of a week. It's details like that that I seem to forget. I need t cancel the chair at H Sunday meeting I've been asked to do. I accepted it knowing that D (of G) sometimes goes. It would not be appropriate of me at all. I know that would piss G off. Mind if we're not together I couldn't care less what he thought then out of anger. But if I want to continue to comport with dignity I would consider his thoughts in this.
After all he accused me of being selfish. I asked what he meant and he said I probably wasn't he was just sounding off.
"it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
Macbeth act V

So I stayed right until the end. I was seen to be taking L's telephone number, T's cousin, who with a lot of confusion for me has deposited stories about T. Her claim that she is disgusted with the way I have been treated was a sort of buy in to the gossip. I learnt that T's mother died when she was 12. She was then passed from pillar to post. Apparently L's family were going to adopt her but she was a disagreeable little girl they decided not to. It seems she has always been unlikeable. I wonder how my dad put up with it. He made his bed and knowing him he would silently suffer publicly but I wonder how we was in private with her. i am certain I saw fear in her at times. But I think they were probably as bad as each other. I wonder what his soul would have made of what was created by them together.
As everyone I knew was leaving I asked JB and J if they would give G and I a lift back to the car which we had left at the church. I don't know why G wanted to leave it there. He wanted to walk and I think it was something to do with worrying about parking. I think as well he thought the United Reform church was nearer than it was. We travelled down with K and P.
Oh something K told me was that D (ex husband) had now separated from his new wife. Something not so dignified was that I sent him a text yesterday. It was intentional. I was resisting when G and I were all OK but could no longer resist after G walked out and I was preparing myself to go to a big family do in Kent. D wasn't the playful sort on texts though. And he never follows through saying he was going to meet up with me. That's not hooky enough to make it worthwhile plus I turn that into being turned down and unattractive. See how my dignity is non-existent in such circumstances. The thinking is screwed up.
K and P - it was lovely that K wanted to be there. Her partner P knew no one and yet trundled along with it all. I am concerned for K. I mentioned to M that I noticed him looking at me a lot. And M said that she was wary when talking with him, worried that K might think there was flirting going on. I am not sure if I thought he was attractive or not but I don't think he's so into K as she is him. She is such an attractive woman physically but to me once she starts I feel controlled and feel her neediness too. She is besotted with L her son and actually quite controlling over S her daughter. I sent a text to S yesterday too. Her text back suggests there is an issue between her and her mum. I am concerned for S. I think she is having a troubled time with drink and behaviour. It's a wild guess. I am concerned that there was something sinister about her friends father and friend always going out with the girls. I hope nothing has happened in a drunken state and she does drink heavily and is vivacious. I am disgusted by those old men loitering with the young girls. It is not usual.
Anyway G and I then travelled home. G was a rock.
The next morning when showering it was no longer about me and I started thinking about what each person had experienced. There were so many little stories within the blanket story of the funeral. it was farcical really when digging under the surface. It's such a dynamic between people. And I do wonder what all the negativity is all about really. What is the purpose of that? Why can't we all be loving and kind and gentle. I do not find T kind and gentle at all despite her sort of whimpering way, a tilt of her head and big moo cow eyes as G describes them. It comes across as pathetic to me. Annoying even. I am certain that's loaded with my resentment and jealousy and hurt too. I was pushed out of my dads life.
I had my part of course. I wasn't going to like her fro the start and learning that they were dating in 2001 added to my distaste of her. I always suspected and loudly announced my dad to be having an affair prior to my mums death. But to have her say they were dating even if it was after it was too bloody close to be considered decent. It suggests to me that my dad couldn't wait to be shot of my mum. Was it really like that? Had it all be a lie?
I was a nightmare, behaviours, financially, deceitful, pissed my dad off with the choices of men and the number of them. All of those things added to his disdain of me. He and I fought. We had for many years and that I don't think started with me. I was being me, a kid. Ad it didn't fit in with him at all. Nothing I could do was right and so under starters orders the problem was there. My dad was an incredibly intolerant man. I understand where some of it came from but that doesn't make it okay.
And I then compounded it. Not wanting contact for a lot of the time during the 11 years didn't help the relationship but I don't think that bothered him much. It will have painted a picture to T perhaps but it surely suited her too. If she didn't want to acknowledge he had a past they had this blissful nowness and when I did contact it would probably been a rude interference and awakening. They would probably be able to create a web of what they wanted to believe, after all we all do that. We see things, our version, our perception and unless incredibly self-aware it is nigh on impossible to see things as ones own perception and there possibly being other versions. They would have believed their spin.
So the practise for me is ton continually step aside from the resentment, anger, fear and jealousy. I want to possess things from my dad and I want money. I want to be suddenly financially secure. I doubt that will happen. I want £250k minimum. I barely expecting £15 to £30k I don't really even expect that to happen. It infuriates me as that's my mums money too. But she died over 11 years ago now and it became my dads. I really am having trouble letting go of that. However, it's the last hurdle and I guess I can't help projecting and having the emotions associated with that. I just have to keep acknowledging them and moving away from them in the same way as moving away from a food thought. It's not easy but there are lots of FA people and friends I can talk about it with. I wonder if sometimes I am just suppressing. But hey ho! I am doing my best. And that's a darn sight better than it has been. Thank goodness I am in recovery because I am pretty certain I wouldn't have even been able to manage with the decorum I have mustered thus far.
Please Universe, take way my resentment, greed and jealousy. Please remove my fear and replace this with trust that all will be okay whatever happens.
I want to go off and follow a lifelong dream to experience living in the Far East. Whether for a while or forever it's always been there as a desire. Please provide me with the courage. My greatest fear is not having the money to have a roof over my head or for food at the time or into the future of old age. I am not convinced I will make old bones anyway but the idea of a poverty stricken old age abhors me. Yet what am I thinking money will buy anyway. It's the idea of being restricted of doing things. I want the bigger world and don't like the smaller world. And yet I could be content with meditation and looking around me. Something wider world is shouting shouting shouting at me. It always has.
So what do you think have I been dignified and graceful. I think on the outside I am closer to that. On the inside I want that. I want to have gracious thoughts but they are speckled with nasties.
Gosh I woke up at 2 am and now it's 4 am. I wake up to get ready at 5 am.
I have heard a car start up. Who on earth gets up and travels at this time?
I want to have a look. It was S the taxi man
Saturday evening after the AA meeting, with no contact other than a text earlier from G, the rage manifested itself by entering SL and contacting DD. I slipped into the M/s bit immediately and masturbated thinking of him. This is the first time I've thought of someone else in this way and the first time I've masturbated I believe since being with G. Is this the beginning of the real end? DD wanted pics of me on all fours. I said I would but I won't. I nearly would but I just do not want to engage with it all again. Over recent weeks I've had more of a pull and that's not the first time I've briefly entered SL. It could be the rage and wanting to act out sexually. I wonder too having re-entered FB for a short while whether it's also avoidance of studying. I'm not sure I'm ever going to complete this degree. All this stuff with my dad being ill, the funeral and joining PD in his new venture - all drains of my resources. I have no energy to do the reading. And then there is the unfinished accreditation. I will have to say to PD that I need to re-send it and this last few days I have been struggling. I will try and get it all together this week to send by next week. That's what I will tell him. And in the meantime I need to read and study.
 I Love G but I'm not in love with him. I feel disappointed that yet again he became moody and walked out. I think he's unreasonable about his dislike of M. He has a reason from way back he can't even remember. He does not want to meet her and told me she was controlling although I was arranging with her a time to visit. He's controlling. He doesn't like her so doesn't want me to have anything to do with her, even suggesting I should choose my friends more wisely. Gosh! Reminiscent of the times when my dad would cause a fuss about my mums friends. There was no freedom for my mum just to invite people around spontaneously. I don't think this is okay. But there is also accepting G as he is. On this matter we are very different. He is not sociable and openly admits to not liking people. But really I wonder if it's him he doesn't like, similar to my dad perhaps?
Anyway having walked out and therefore me not being able to help with his car and him not coming to the family do yesterday and more me not being a part of him getting his new car all feels horrid. I want to help G, but I do and have. He owes me £240 which I am trying to write-off in my head but I will raise it with him. I will ask if in his mind the work of putting in the shower was some sort of contribution towards the debt? If it is I will try to accept it but I hadn't been wanting a shower that badly. It's nice to have and I use it ALL the time now. But even so I wasn't aware that it was a part of the pay off it that's what it was. That all should have been discussed as I am still waiting for my £240. And now he's sold the care to the tip for £107. What a waste of time. And there was a question in my mind as to whether G had done it himself as nothing like that has happened here before. So very strange. And he had all sorts of conspiracies that seemed very odd.
Anyway the family do. It was filled with all Auntie O's and Uncles R's friends. And family too. I think I got to speak with everyone and was polite and friendly. I am not over keen on any of them. I have strong feelings for the 3 girls. And I missed L's presence. Of all the cousins I think I liked her the most. I think A is troubled and gosh like me she holds so much resentment but for her its with her mum. She is having difficulty accepting and forgiving her mum as I do my dad. We had a chat. There is a wanting in me for A to want to be with me but she doesn't. S is a nice man, her husband. They all have a niceness to them but there is an edge too. It's there. I think probably less so with Uncle G and Auntie M. But G is most certainly an addict. His girlfriend looked as if she had a serious problem herself. They looked and smelt rough. J always looks to me as if there is a side to her, calculating but L just seems generally nice. J and N also don't seem to be bad people.
I sat with L. She is okay really. None of them are my cuppa tea really. But I was there. It's nice to connect with family. It's a sort of belonging and they do make me feel welcome mainly. I feel uncomfortable trying to socialise. I'm not great at it. I did like Uncle R's niece and she was interested in FA. I will call her in the week and send her details by email. If she wants to meet up at the meeting I would gladly do that. I think Essex to London Bridge is easy.
And then afterwards I went back to Auntie O's. She was tearful. Uncle R told her to stop it. This was after the girls and M had gone. I noticed M is on the phone texting a lot so wasn't surprised when I enquire whether he'd met anyone and Auntie O said she thinks there is someone called S. It is soon but I suppose he's dealing with his grief the best way he knows how. And having 3 girls can't be that easy. They are lively. E is interesting. I am always intrigued by children who are not shy and have facial expressions and things. I think at 11 I was not so bold as she. I was shy and retiring. Of course I'm sure I wasn't when at ease. But I was scared of adults and wouldn't dare to be me. I loved that she was so comfortable despite losing her mum when so young. Those girls have a lot of emotions to work through. I hope they are being encouraged. I think D tends to be inward. She probably always was but I hope she has outlets that are healthy and being shown how to emote rather than suck in and isolate with it. I am projecting of course from my own experiences even though the circumstances are totally different.
Well it's now 4:32. I will be awake to get ready in half an hour. Perhaps I will lie down in bed for that half hour and see what happens. I feel wide awake but maybe I'll doze and then bloody hell I hope I don't over sleep.
I liked it when talking about K's sleep over and they stayed up all night, E said it was an "over". She is quite quirky.


Bliss
XXXX







 

Comport with Dignity

Well today, although internally terrified, I sent a letter recorded delivery to T. It was a card actually.

It said

Dear Theresa,

Firstly I would like to say thank you for organising father’s funeral service. It was a lovely service and appreciated by all. I would also like to thank you personally for the support you were able to give father over the past few months as his illness progressed.

Secondly I would like to be present when his will is read. I am aware that you may not know my address and I therefore give the details as follows;

Pamela A Roberts, 6 blah blah blah  My telephone number is xxxxx xxxxxx.

I would appreciate it if you forward these details to your solicitor and ask him to either write or telephone me as soon as possible informing me of the date and venue for the reading of the will. You will appreciate that I need to book the time of work and arrange the work diary to suit.

Once again, thanks you for organising the funeral and for being there for father in his last days

 

So what do you think?

.... I have more to write about the comporting but right now have to get off towards Kent (alone - as G walked out again)

Yep over the last two to three days there is so much to say. My life is never boring I can honestly say that.

 

I will continue with the comporting. I'd appreciate any views on the letter as I am pooping myself when she gets it. But there's fathers voice again ... I've done something wrong, a money grabber etc etc. I know he thought I was always taking and to be fair to hi at times that's what I did. I walked away from houses and lost fortunes. I have never been responsible with money and material things. It's odd. And yet I WANT!

So he may have even primed her for me wanting things. I want things that were my mums and his to have - it's sort of part of the holding on to them both. I feel lost without them oddly and I want some worldy things to have them close. And yet I know deep down those things are not them at all. And also there are some things I like but they are then just more clutter. I'd like the painting and I'd like the ivory peacock. I used to play with it. AND I'd love my dads medals. They were his pride and joy and he was a good solider by all accounts. A proper soldier JH said. And PW told me that my dad experienced some horrible things.

More to be written on these events over these last few days and another flipping adventure to be had today visiting my family for my Auntie O's birthday.

On the way I will call RW and say how sorry I am for the loss of his father. And even worse I didn't know for months. My dad didn't tell me. I would have been at the funeral but of course my dad would want to keep me away from T or she keep him away from me. It's so flipping hurtful and difficult not to take personally. Bless them both God. I pray for them both. only You know what is best for them and for me.

Bliss

XX

 

He can't tell me off - Day 4

 I didn't write this as I was thinking it so trying to write it retrospectively.


Day 4 after my dad died was Wed/Thurs. And I was realising that he can no longer tell me off. When I went to see his body at the undertakers, I felt he was going to jump up and tell me off. I thought he'd say get this bloody idiot out of here, referring to G. And then I took a photo of his dead body and he would have gone ballistic at something like that. My dad had a real fear of death and bodies. I'd like to know why considering he must have seen many bodies in his military days. He fought in Korea attached to the Gloucester's. I read a little about the Presidents Citation which my dad has. The little British battalion received this medal.
From Wikipedia ...
"The 1st. Battalion, Gloucestershire Regiment, British Army and Troop C. 170th Independent Mortar Battery, Royal Artillery, attached, were cited for exceptionally outstanding performance of duty and extraordinary heroism in action against the armed enemy near Solma-ri, Korea on the 23rd, 24th, and 25 April 1951. The 1st. Battalion and Troop C were defending a very critical sector of the battle front during a determined attack by the enemy. The defending units were overwhelmingly outnumbered. The 63rd Chinese Communist Army drove the full force of its savage assault at the positions held by the 1st Battalion, Gloucestershire Regiment and attached unit. The route of supply ran southeast from the Battalion between two hills. The hills dominated the surrounding terrain northwest to Imjin River. Enemy pressure built up on the battalion front during the day, 23 April. On 24 April, the weight of the attack had driven the right flank of the battalion back. The pressure grew heavier and heavier and the battalion and attached unit were forced into a perimeter defence on Hill 235. During the night, heavy enemy forces had by-passed the staunch defenders and closed all avenues of escape. The courageous soldiers of the battalion and attached unit were holding the critical route selected by the enemy for one column of the general offensive designed to encircle and destroy I Corps. These gallant soldiers would not retreat. As they were compressed tighter and tighter in their perimeter defence, they called for close-in air strikes to assist in holding firm. Completely surrounded by tremendous numbers, these indomitable, resolute, and tenacious soldiers fought back with unsurpassed fortitude and courage. As ammunition ran low and the advancing hordes moved closer and closer, these splendid soldiers fought back viciously to prevent the enemy from overrunning the position and moving rapidly on the south. Their heroic stand provided the critically needed time to regroup other I Corps units and block the southern advance of the enemy. Time and again efforts were made to reach the battalion, but the enemy strength blocked each effort. Without thought of defeat or surrender, this heroic force demonstrated superb battlefield courage and discipline. Every yard of ground they surrendered was covered with enemy dead until the last gallant soldier of the fighting battalion was overpowered by the final surge of the enemy masses."
I'm hoping I'll get to know more when I meet with PW in March. I truly hope his complicated uncomplicated op on Tuesday goes smoothly. He is such a lovely man. ^ foot and a lot more. He is just smiles and warmth. I loved the talk we had on the phone on Saturday. And when he invited me to lunch in March I was thrilled.
Anyway. Who thinks I'm just really off my rocker for taking the photo? I really think it's a peculiar thing to have done but I am glad I have it too.
I want to post it here but I think that would be just a step too far. Funnily though as I got into my car, there in the window of the charity shop next door was a skeleton. I couldn't resist. It was a bit of a mockery really. But finny too. I won't post that either out of respect for my dad.
So I keep realising that he can no longer reinforce the messages that I am worthless. How would he do that? Well it would be in his tone of intolerance or he would say something that would put me down. I remember at my mums funeral he said something derogatory about my hair, such as "you could have done your hair for this at least". And his last telling off was yet more ridicule and minimising my position with him. He didn't want me to encounter T at all and I've always read this as his negativity towards me, his dislike of me, which I take on board deeply. Well ever since a little girl I have not been good enough and therefore have learnt that I am worthless. I am just about kept hooked in with moments of laughter and so on. Fundamentally everyone else was compared as better. But when he was dismissing and deprecating someone else I would suddenly feel close and make that person the common enemy. I learnt that noone was good enough including me. He didn't like people but I have understood that as m,e personally is a piece of shit.
He cannot reinforce those messages so the repetition of them is merely in my head. Held deep in my belief system but I can perhaps start to make a distance from them and hear other messages too. I am more rounded than merely a problem. Even though T sort of reinforces it but I am learning that she is really not a well person.
So all I had to do at day 4 was get through the funeral and looking beyond that the Will. I think that will be my dads final slight of me. He has full power until that is over and done with.
I hear the reinforcement though in many people. And I am aware that because of my conditioning it was I expect. So it isn't the same situations and it isn't the same message necessarily but I hear it as that. As a consequence I try to cover up.
I am so ashamed that I have lied to PD about my accreditation document and of course that is coming up to bite me. I feel embarrassed at having lied that it was submitted before Christmas. I was initially ashamed that I hadn't done it and it would confirm the message that I am useless and lazy. He would be disappointed, no worse than that he would be disgusted with me. It's such a strong message.
My dad was disgusted with me all of my life. Nothing about me as acceptable. And that's what I think people will think. I lied to M about the shower. For some reason I was not comfortable with the fact that G was doing things for me, made me look dependent already or something so when she asked if G put the shower in for me I said no. And more than that I said I had paid the landlords. I think also I was embarrassed that I've just allowed it to be done without first seeking permission.
Oh what I have learnt is that it's just a methodical process of drawing water through pipes form the tank. I thought it was far more complex. I don't know why. Anything can be channelled anywhere from the source, including electricity. Amazing I had though everything was so impossible ad so experts were miracle workers. No one is so godly as I thought. The power I invest in people is diminishing. Is this with my dad dying or my Step 5, or what?
So perhaps there will be some more freedom with my dads death. It seems a horrible thought and disrespectful but there is a relief and a truth in it too.
It's a lifetime of difficulty. I feel very sad and at times still can't believe he's dead. I look at the photo and see my dad still there. It's so very strange. But he has left this world now.
Bliss
XX

 

Love when feeling hostility

I need to find love even though I belive the atmoshpere will be hostile. I am upset that T didn't call me during the day when things for my dad had taken a turn suddenly to be even worse.
I didn't finish writing this.
On Friday 1st Feb my dad took a turn for the worse. The evening before I had called T and said that I'd visit on Friday. She was rather dramatic but also reasonable I guess as she exclaimed that he'd only just arrived home and was very unsettled. She implored "please Pamela please". And so I decided to respect her wish. During the evening of Friday after I returned from my AA meeting, I had a message on my answer machine. With her rather dramatised tone (usual) it said You need to come and see your father. I learnt from D her eldest daughter that they had been there all afternoon and during that time he had been conscious at times.
I am so hurt by this act of unkindness as I see it. And especially having heard since then that T would not admit to people that my dad had had a past. I think she had a big part in keeping the divide between us. I am furious about this. But then I have to look at how much a part I had in keeping a distance. I didn't want contact at all at some stages. Months and months would go by without me contacting him.
I feel dreadful for this now of course. I need to be careful though as for some people no contact is absolutely the best thing.
The last words my dad had with me were angry. He was telling me off for speaking with the consultant too long. Yet he had given me permission to speak to the Dr and it was the Dr who was talking to me. He told me that there was Cancer but it was behind his rib cage and so they could not get to it to take a biopsy. He also said that it was my dads wish that he return home if the news was bad. As it was Cancer there was nothing they could do to treat him. He was too frail and couldn't take it. I wished I had said something to my dad. He probably didn't want to talk about it though and perhaps this was why he was angry and then feigned sleep. It was obviously an act because I've seen that before in him. He shut me down, didn't even say goodbye.
It hurts like hell!

I wanted to add that I am feeling love and compassion amidst the black thoughts and feelings. I have to keep turning to this when I am feeling the resentment. I want to let go of resentmnet and hurt. And it's been ironic that all through this dreadful period of time I have been writing my stpe 4. It's been difficult keeping the focus on my part. And to write about how I kept my distance and harboured hatred towards my dad and focused on the abusive past feeding my resentment towards hi, it kept the distance stronger. T is right I was not consistent in sending Christmas cards and birthday cards. If I hadn't been so riddled with my own anger then I would have done things differently. I know at some point I can make amends to my dad for this. I wonder if I'll remember. I wonder how to make amends when someone is dead. It's too frigging late. And it's making amends for my part only. The forgiveness for all the other things is a part of the process I'm not quite in yet. It's about my part only at the moment in the resentment and hatred. And jealousy too I wanted my dad all to myself but could never get it anyway. I need to share this with my sponsor.
Bliss
XX
 

The Funeral

I was so hurt when D (eldest daughter) informed me that T would not allow me to travel from the house in the car behind the coffin. D explained that T blamed me for my dads hurt over the past 12 years of my absence and for the ways I had been in the past. BLAMED ME!!! Now I truly believe the woman is off balance but this hurt to the core. It was on the tip of my tongue to let D know a few truths from the past. D is so balanced she said she knows that everyone has a part to play. Gosh! I do not not feel I had a greater part to play. I have resentments going way way back and it's difficult to let go of them amidst all this blaming and retaliation. And I delivered my Step 5 on Sunday to my sponsor.
This is so challenging to let go of my resentments. Wow am I being given plenty of opportunity though. Crikey.
Anyhow that was the news given to me on Sunday. The compromise from D and D's battling with their mother was that I could wait outside the church and walk in behind the coffin. I think she is just bloody nasty and unkind.
As it happens M suggested those wonderful friends that were coming to meet me meet at a pub beforehand. it worked well. We met at the Royal Oak (Well recommended) http://www.royaloak-havant.co.uk/index.php
I suggested we meet for lunch. originally I was going to take my own but I didn't in the end. And I ate a menu dish without causing a fuss. It was all fine. I did feel hungry later but it could have been emotional stuff as well.
It was nice M was there, A, G and R, G and he has been a rock this past few weeks. K and her new partner P turned up too. G was clearly anxious beforehand but settled ad his new best friend is P. He made me smile as I asked if he took his number to which G replied "no in that way he can stay my best friend". He is so clever G and creative. I love him to bits. I don't like him for being awkward with me and when he doesn't feel like towards me. Then I think just fuck off and be where you want to be, stop taking it out on me.
Everyone was chatty and getting along as best they could. I felt jealous towards G being very friendly with A. I think A was anxious about it. I mentioned it to G asking if he was flirting with A. He said he feels the affinity of the alcoholic and the difficulty of the day not drinking.
A was great. She next to me in the church.
We arrived as the coffin was arriving. I dumped the car with G to sort it out. I ran down to the entrance in good time. Phew.
T apparently was so distraught she couldn't follow the coffin in. I therefore decided not to anyway.
Mainly because I wanted to ensure I was sitting int he front row. The order of things wasn't how I think it should have been but hey ho! The vicar seemed to look intently at me throughout the service. I wasn't the only one to notice. A M and K noticed too. G didn't.
A woman came over to me and later was talking intently with G and G. They learnt much about T. G discovered that T's mother died when she was 12 yrs old. Also that the kidney problem was widespread int heir family. I don't think we've discovered her reason for difficulty with men. But to be honest I think her difficulty is with people in general. G mentioned something to D (eldest) and he was disappointed in her response. I reminded him that I had been wary all along that despite her sympathy for me she was always her mothers daughter and had never been disloyal to her with carefully chosen words always.
Gosh sitting there in the front row with A next to me and K next to her, with G R M and G behind me too, I started shaking and I just could not stop. I thought at first I was creating the shakes but I had not control over them. I was so very conscious of everyone behind me. I didn't want to cry I wanted to be utterly motionless and dignified. Feelings of anger, hurt and loss flicked by me. memories seemed to be flicking through as well. All sorts of thoughts and feelings. I managed to stop the shakes by taking time out in meditation. Occasionally I remembered what my sponsor had said "take God's hand". Thank goodness for fellowship, recovery tools, God and meditation. Thank goodness for my friends and friends of my dads.
I wanted everyone to be on my side. But I was able to simply be friendly and chat with people. I had a role after all, the daughter of the deceased. I had a purpose to be sociable. It's so not easy to be sociable and chat to people as simply me.
Anyway there were so many people at the church who briefly came over. I'm glad they did as I wouldn't have had time to get to them otherwise.
Not everyone came to the other place with the ticky tacky foodstuff. G mentioned that it is where AA meetings are held. It made me smile. I heard him mention it to P too so I wasn't so worried when I answered K's question as to where we met and I said in the fellowship. She nodded but may not have even known what I meant. Oh well!
I wasn't willing to speak to T as she sat. She was surrounded initially by the HAC chaps. I wondered if that was always a plan. Military men have such a code of etiquette. A couple of the men I had never heard mention of before. But PW and JH were there. Old old friends of my dads. I will contact PW as he was in Korea with my dad and maybe I can get some of the truth. I hope so.
PW is unwell himself and afraid he won't be coming out of hospital on Tuesday. I will phone him on Saturday.
JH suggested I get a copy of one of my dads HAC books. He asked T on my behalf noticing that there was a distance between us. She said categorically NO! I know I am going to struggle to get some of the possessions I would like to own. There is the painting on the wall, the medals, the Chinese figures that my mum gave him, there is the ivory peacock and a little shooting trophy. I don't why I want these things. They are material things that on the one hand I despise and yet want on the other hand. it's strange.
Anyhow I was a bit gossipy. I wish I hadn't been. I know I was and realised I was at the end of the evening back home with G. It's a way of venting.

He had a wicker coffin. Most surprising. But then again my dad would occasionally do something that seemed completely out of the blue and out of character. It would cripple me to think it was all her choice after all. The reading made me vomit - talk of arms being all around for ever.
The reading from St John was nicer - Chapter 14 I think. I will re-read it I think.
The service was nicely done overall, short. Then he was buried. I would have liked him to be near my mum. It is frightening the power of these second families. Now she is his next of kin she gets to chose everything despite the 41 years I'd already had with him and the 45+ years my mum had had with him. It feels all so unjust. There is so much emotional pain connected with that. I keep trying to remember these are merely thoughts, memories and emotions. It is not what is I. And who is the I that is thinking it is not I anyway. As says Jetsunma (Tenzin Palmo)

 

I am deeply blessed with the people in my life right now. These friends that were there with me today were just incredible. All but K knew my dad. A and G had a brief encounter with him. They were there for me. And how easy it is for me to focus on the people that weren't there for me or only me. These people were. Ad that is incredible. Please God take care of these incredible people. They are towers of strength for me. I pray for them God and trust that you know what is best for them. Help them in their own struggles and carry them to soul happiness please.
And for T I pray for her God putting her in your hands. Especially in her grief. Please too take my prayer for D and D. They need your support, I get a strong sense of that.
I hope my dad has found his way to you. I wouldn't want for him to be a lost soul. I think he's been floundering for long enough. God please help him find his way to you now.
For those people that may think I am religious, this is not a religious God I pray to. It is the Universe, the energy that is the Universe. I don't believe in anyone thing or revere. I do though know there is Power greater than only one single thing. It is us, the collective, the world and everything on it and beyond into the Universe. I think that includes an interconnection of time too. So people live on and through. I have no idea if there is a place for souls, we won't know unless there is and we are there but I don't believe that will be as the I if there is such a thing. But it's scary thinking like that because then I doesn't exist and what is it within this skin of cells?
Well I'm going into work late but that does mean I need to get ready now. Prep my food, wash and dress and leave by 9:30. It is possible to do at 8:22.
I would rather just relax at home, feeling all my bones tensed and muscles taught.
I'm tired, emotionally, physically and mentally. I may go to a meeting this evening but may not. Perhaps I'll simply chill for w while with the B's A, G and R of she's there.
And then home. I'm off for my study day tomorrow which I need to confirm with PD. He is struggling with my weekly study day.
I have an essay to do and haven't started the reading. I want to get the chapter read tomorrow. it's a tall order but if I don't then I won't get back to it to comprehend it enough for the essay. I want to read the fist chapter as well. Although I know it basically I don't know it well.
So off to prep food.
Thanks for being there
Bliss
xx


 

Day 2 Dad Dead

My dad died at 10 minutes past midnight on 3rd February 2013.
I saw his body in the chapel of rest. It seemed so weird. I thought he would jump up and tell me off and say something like "get that bloody idiot out of here" - as G was there with me. What a rock G has been and how I didn't think he could be.
It was so strange seeing my dad. He looked at peace thank goodness. I was relieved he had died though. I was relieved for him finally being in peace ad I was relieved because selfishly I couldn't bear the thought of another day amidst all of that horrible attitude towards me.
I am truly trying to be gracious but I have strong feelings of hatred at times about T. She didn't introduce me to the vicar yet introduced everyone else. She talked about her first date with my dad in 2001. My mum died on 22nd November 2001 and was buried on 29th November 2001. How could she have discussed that in front of all those people. Disgusting and without thought. Selfish woman. And yesterday as she came out of the undertakers she didn't even nod or smile. She got in the car. The daughters came over and spoke with me D (eldest) even cried and it seemed so genuine. D (youngest) said "we loved him you know". I relied "so did I".
Can you believe this weirdness but I took a picture of him. I wanted to but didn't think for a minute I could. Surely that's just utterly disrespectful. I know my dad would find it horrifying. But then G said it too. So I did. It feels weird to have it. It seems unbelievable at times that he's dead. I remember that after my mum died. It seemed impossible ad it does with him. One time so alive and always so angry with me. Would I rather him alive and angry with me? No I'd rather him alive and we could sit down and have a really good loving chat. But that was never going to happen. What did happen dad?
It was horrid too when H was there. Talking to her about my dad as if I didn't exist. He went to shake my hand goodbye after hugging D (youngest). My dad had done the same to me after the first meeting pre-wedding. Why do they go to shake my hand and hug others? What's wrong with me?
Aaaaargh! It's been so difficult!
And then I'm not included or privvy to any funeral arrangements. I am angry and thinking about what might happen about his will. Is there one? Am I entitled to ask for some tings of his. HE'S MY DAD and not just YOUR husband. For goodness sake I feel like a child who needs her to be the adult. She is jealous of me I am sure of it.
When N said "well your dad is with your mum now" I suddenly thought T would want to die to control that too. She cannot abide the fact he had a life before. Of course she loved him regardless of the circumstances of them getting together.
It seems as well that my dad created a new persona. I wonder which was the lie. Was he really that unhappy with who he was with my mum and I? Why did he seem to hare me so much?
But then he phoned me around Christmas time saying he loved me and wished me well for the future. I knew and he knew that the end was approaching. I didn't really want to believe my belief but I knew anyway.
I knew too the message on my answer machine was the last message I would have and I deleted it - in error really. As I pressed the button I suddenly knew I needed not to. Too late. I have no record of his voice.
As I entered my flat tonight I was scared. I felt his presence. I thought he'd get to me, tell me off.
I came in talking with JB as I was scared. G suggested inviting the Buddhists in if the monsters were so loud.
It's sort of okay. Some of it is the guilt of having exaggerated the horrors of the past. Some of it is having taken the photo.
PD very generously supported me arriving late. I got in about 11. It made the day go quickly. I had two 1:1's. They seemed to go okay.
Having some worries myself about whether it will all take off.
It's all very strange. This morning I was talking to G feeling angry about incidents in the past. I then cried at the hurt of it all. It's all highlighting the loss of my mum. It's all horrid!!

Bliss
XX

My dad died

He died late last night. He was decalred dead at 10 minutes past mindnight. I received a call from T telling me so. She sounded dreadfula dn said she was so sorry. I do find it diifuclt tolerating her rather dramatic sounding sorrow.
I saw his body in eht chapel of rest today. It was odd. At first I was nevreous to setep into this little room. He doesn't have a coffin yet as apparently he wanted a wicker coffin and that has to be ordered in. I find that strange and just ow little I knew him if that's the case.
I was afraid he would jump up and tell me off. The weirdest thing came over me - to take a photo. And I did. That is just a peculiar thing to do. Now if he was alive he would be absolutely horrified because he was terrified odf death. Terrified of being disrespectful.
I somehow can't believe he's dead. And that will hep remind me. I am not sure if I'll keep it or not.
He can no onger actually be cross with me and say horrid tings to me. He cannot spread aspersions about me anymore.
All I have to do now is get the messages from my belief system. The core beliefs and thoughts will not be reinforced by him anymore. Only I can actually do that so that means I can unpick the issues too.
Very soon I will no longer have to have anything to do with T either. I will perhaps keep in contact with D her eldest daughter and see what happens there.
I am so very grateful to G for being there the entire weekend. I just felt so much relief not to be entirely alone.
Yesterday was particularly difficult. There were times when I was raging and screaming inside. I wanted to scream "what about me" when she determinedly didn't introduce me to the vicar. She introduced everyone else and looked a time. Her daughter introduced me. She is not a nice lady, cruel and unkind.
I wondered as I looked at my dad dying body what it's all been about.
It was painful to as JH sat talking about what an amazing soldier he was. Some of it I had never believed. Perhaps it was true. And then when people talk about what a lovely man he's been. What about all the horrible parts my mum and I endured. I know my mum adored him. But he's created a different persona I think in his new life. And that excluded me entirely.
I am hurt and sad. Time to heal perhaps. The Universe is really my parent.

Bliss
XX

Fiery Rage

Last night I didn't know what to do with my fury. This morning I feel calm and relieved.
One moment I felt numb and wondered what all the drama was about and the next I was raging and stomring both mentally and physically. These ewere emotions I would once have driven at dangerously fast speeds into London grabbing any friend I could convnice to "party" with me. I would drink and rug and flirt dangrously with a man or men never rally knowing what might happen. I had no other way of venting and didn't even lknow then that I was raging.
Last night I thought about that or food or anything to get away from the enormity of the feelings.
What had happened? Well With great courage I called T to say that I'd like to visit my dad the next day. I was fearful and hesitated several times before being able to find the courage to call. Afraid of a reaction and then that becoming a big deal and upsetting my dad who is bloody well dying. Sure enoug she sounded sramatic, lots of gasps of air and sigs. Saying Please Pamela not tomorrow. I was shocked and said OK. I was angry but acceptant. But then her daughter D called and explained that my dad had quite a horrible return to the house just that afternoon. Of course this morning I can understand more clearly that T is probably realising that he is actually dying when she sounded before to be in completel denial, saying that he was perking up and when he got home all would be well. NOw she has all this equipment everywhere, a hospital bed downstaiors and strange nurses will be coming and going. He is very very unwell. So I understand the need to adjust. But at the same time she is quite mean wanting to keep me out of the loop and not visit.
D explained that my dad is not eating or drinking again and is in quite a lot of discomfort. Perhaps today he may feel more settled, who knows. But D suh=ggested I definitely visit whatever her mother says. I think people know what T is like. I WILL visit whether she and he want or not. I will not stay long and I won't cause a fuss. I will do my hurting outside of their presence. A I do not wat to give them any more fodder for their unjyust feelings towards me. I an understand that T has probably been fed with all sorts of negativity about me. B I want to be as gracious as I can be.
G is not the person to share my anger with  but I can hopefully share my hurt and the sorrow I feel as I see my pitiful father.
I am abstinent with my food. Drink is a passing thought of course. But destructive thoughts are still very powerful. I did none of these things. I texted furiously to a small number of trusted friends. None of whom tried to fix but could hear my emotions and gave beuatiful suggestions back
I distracted through FB for a while when I had considered breifly a spell on SL. Now that's destructive for me.
I texted a few unnecessaries as well but that's okay. It wasn't risque texts - straight talking.
And then I went to sleep. I woke int he early hours but this is happening as per a pattern recently. I am clumsier than usual too and forgetful, not really seeing things clearly. I think this is a mix of hormonal shifts as well as the worries ad sadness and death of my dad.
I am furious of course that she T will inherit anything at all that was my mums. And in turn her duaghters will inherit. They are benefitting because of my mum. How fucking unjust!!
I have to let go. I just have to find acceptance about this.

So amazing. I was aware. I didn;t want to fuel the rage as I think G would have me do. He is so pent up with his own rages that he cannot see why i wouldn't want to be myself. He wants to use that rage to make his point and get justice. It doesn't work that way for me. I want to step away from the rage. Show up and make my point with grace and love in my heart. It is unjust but it will not be any better by screaming and shouting. I might get my way but with bad feelings all round. That is not winning.
I really believe this more and more and can challenge the idea that I'm neing walked all over. I am not. I can scream and shout. I have in the past but this is a choice not to. Instead it means that others seem as if they get their way. They do and it can seem unfair but I can learn to be gracious and trust that justice is done at a higher level than I can ever understand.
I love and trust this is correct for me.
Thank you Universe and thank you for all the wonderful people in my life today and every day so far of my life.
Bliss
XXX

Ida's Dead Eyes in the Mountains

Augustus John's first wife came to accept his affair with Dorelia. Apparently she said "men must play and women must weep". Her photo does not to me reflect accetpance to me.. She looks dead in the eyes or was that the photography process, the long sitting? Am I just projecting my insecurity onto her thoughts? Or is she displaying the weeping she talks of, the pain in my heart surely shows in my eyes. Can I learnt o accept that every man I know and have known is not content with one woman?
M is related to him somehow and I'm jelaous of that. Her art connections and celebrity status. Isn't that silly. It makes me yet again a nobody yet again comapred to a somebody, through connection to a real somebody.
I would like to move away from such jealousy and insted be comfortable being the person I am. I don't like the seeming arrogance that seeps through when people are claiming their somebody status through such connections. Some people name drop all the time. It's irritting but also expresses some sense of a lacking in self and a need for importance as a result. Even if it's secondhand. This is ego. And even more irrituating are those people wo are fooled by status. I can be on of them displayed through my very jealousy. Ugh so complex being human. So much work involved in seeing it ll for what it is and trying to get back to the reality of the moment,
Augustus John was an iportant artist of england in the early 1900's. An amazing draughtsman so they say. An artisit skilled in detailed drawings. I like his portraits.
Influenced by Innes, a man who seems to have used influences from imprssion to pre-empt the arrival of the post impressionists. And Innes was in turn enthused by Matisse and fauvism. John and Innes were not convinced that art was not a vehicle for good draughtsmanship. I think I can see the ways in which moving out of conventional reproduction feels more creative. I can see what I see and maybe even attempt at copying it. Technically this is a talent I suppose. But to convey creative ideas using art as the vehicle. Now this is another matter all together.
Influenced by fauvism is suddenly a way to reflect what the feelings are not simply what's being seen. Some people do not like this I suppose, they want to be awed, is that a word?, by like-ism. I made that up. But I want to create what I feel. And sometimes I don't know how to put it into words. I can see feeling though in like-isms too.
In fact was Munch influenced by Fauvism? His paintings often seem to reflect feelings rather than like-ism. I remember the fallen tree painted in yellow specifically. I liked it for its perspective and colour but only when someone else had pointed that out to me.
Innes and John spent time in Wales - drinking. JOhn was a ealthy celebrity in the prime of his life befireding Innes completely unknown and much younger. Despie this John painted him with a "cadaverous cast of features". What a lovely turn of phrase from the BBC4 documentary which inspired me. Hence writing this information gleaned from it.

 




Henri Mattise and fauvism

 



 

James D Innes



  Arenig, Snowdonia North Wales




John called Innes an intellectual virgin. Innes had a direct connection with the landscape. And John picked out qualities in his portraits.

Perhaps they paved the way deviating from constraints of British rigidity.

Augustus had many lovers; Euphemia Lamb, social butterfly. Eccentric and an adventurous spirit, she irresistibly beautiful. She wasn't an exclusive sort and Innes became more impotant in her life. It wasn't believed John and Innes were rivals in this affair. It reminds me of being in a relationship with CO when married to DM. They both knew. I think there was rivalry with CO but DM was too lapsidasical and probably more concerned with being free to drink and gamble. Perhaps he was just less possessive. I think so. If only that could have remained but I was still too needy and wanting conventionl I think. It was painful but intriguing and fun all at the same time. What an adventure of a life I've had. If only I wasn't so insecure.

Euphemia


 by Augustus John

She resembles J I think. I was jealous of J's looks. Something qite stunning about her. If she didn;t go into her fairy tale romaticism. That just wasn't for me. How judgemental. Well I was, I found it irritating but that doesn't mean it was wrong. I don't make a judgement in that way. We were destined to move on from each other. I am still sad about that though.

John lived with the gypsy's. Doing what he deamed of as a child. I dream of travelling. Places less touched by westerners. Exploring and keeping moving. Yet I crave security too. I wonder if I can have faith in the freedom.

JOhn said "certainly I have an interest in women ... in beauty. If it's beauty it's love, in my case"
He also said " as an artist you've got to get excited about something before you can do anything and beauty is an excitant".
Now that's interesting. I get intrigued and that is an inspiratoin to do something. But curiosity ad an attraction to things that glitter can also be a danger. I think they can create the desire for more. Recongise the addictive cycle starting. It only excitment is the motivator then it's out of balance. There's a need for self discipline otherwise other things that matter get left to drift away. Beauty can be blurred or fade in the cold light of reality.

Painting all fairly cursory he paints bushes and sheeps as dashes and dots.
His scenery was secondary to his portraits but encompassed in the same painting. I wonder if he had an affair with Tabullah?


Innes contracted tuberculosis and was dying. His relationship with Eupemia was dying at the same time.
He kept on painting until he could paint no more. John outlived Innes by a further 46 years. JD Innes was 27 when he died. Living a life of recless dissipation, drinking too much. He died without a fading reputation just very young. John continued to fly the Welsh flag. He abandoned landscapes and instead was a ortrait painter for the stars. He said he had a "fishy reputation as a painter because I'm out of date". Innes was his inspiration. When working together they almost created a school of their own. They were not in cometition but brought together different strengths. They were in harmony with their different talents. I wonder if was actually like that.
Rebecca John says she prefers INnes' interpretations more decorative and more fantastical and more appealing paintings. Not so real compared with John's like-isms.
Intresting. She had said earlier that she wished she had known a younger not so grumpy grandfather. I wonder if there is some histoiry of resentment or if she really does prefer Innes' work.




An article in an old Guardian. I wish I'd been intersted at that time to get to the exhibition. And recently I missed an exhibition in Chichester. Pity.

Drawing together

He was the bewitching bohemian to her secretive introvert; he the toast of the art world and she the talented recluse. But as the Tate's forthcoming retrospective reveals, the paintings of brother and sister Augustus and Gwen John are opposites which attract. By Tim Adams

• Tim Adams             Sunday 29 August 2004

Exactly 100 years ago, in the summer of 1904, there was, it would be fair to say, a good deal going on in the lives of the brilliant young Welsh artists Gwen John and her brother Augustus.
The pair - he, loud and passionate; she, spirited and self-contained, two years his elder - had grown up together famously unruly on the beaches and cliffs of Pembrokeshire. They lost their mother early in their childhood and, to escape the attentions of maiden aunts, had educated themselves in nature, peered over the shoulders of weekend artists to observe 'the mystery of painting', and learnt portraiture by sketching each other obsessively.
Both won places at the Slade School of Fine Art in London, where Augustus, in particular, had been hailed as a draughtsman of genius. They had then, at the turn of the century, drifted into a life of easy bohemianism in the capital, sharing friends and houses, painting portraits and establishing themselves at the heart of the avant-garde. After the summer of 1904, however, their lives, and their art, began to diverge in extreme ways.
It had begun the previous year when, at a gallery opening in Holborn, Augustus had met a young art student called Dorelia McNeill. Augustus, then 25, was already married to a fellow student from the Slade, Ida Nettleship. They had one son, and another on the way. From the moment he saw Dorelia, however, he fell hopelessly in love. He persuaded her to pose for him as a model, went out with his wife and sister to choose exotic clothes for her to wear while he sketched her, and began the relationship in which she became his muse, his lover and his obsession.
Gwen, perhaps fearing where her brother's affair might lead, persuaded Dorelia to accompany her on a 'walk to Rome', which would have the effect of easing some of the tensions at home, and would allow her, too, to paint the bewitching model. The pair had set off by boat to Bordeaux and followed the Garonne to Toulouse, sleeping on the river bank, trading portraits for food, pursued all the while by Augustus's letters, pleading with them to return to London. Eventually, in the spring of 1904, Gwen and Dorelia abandoned their original trip and went to Paris.
As a younger girl, Gwen had described herself as 'shy as a sheep', but now, at 27, she felt 'amorous and proud'. In this spirit, and looking for work, she went to knock on the door of Auguste Rodin, the most famous artist in the city, to offer herself as a model. By the end of the summer of 1904, Gwen was posing for the sculptor every week. She had also fallen into a love affair with him that was to define much of the remainder of her life. Rodin was 63 and in letters of the autumn Gwen would describe to him how she was the 'happiest woman in the world' and how 'all my days are so delicious when I pose in the mornings and it's sunny and I know you [Rodin] are coming later'.
Augustus, meanwhile, who was already becoming known as the outstanding young artist in London, had by September 1904 persuaded Dorelia back to London. In part, this was spurred by his wife Ida, who wrote to Dorelia offering her 'wonderful concubinage'. The three of them, along with Ida and Augustus's two sons, then established the infamous consensual household they had imagined. Augustus had waited for Dorelia impatiently as she adventured with his sister, and he now took to drawing and painting her obsessively. In his letters to her while she was in France, he had complained that, 'You sit in the nude for these devilish foreign people, but you do not want to sit for me when I asked you.' This was a problem quickly rectified. Later that year, Dorelia became pregnant by Augustus and ,the following summer, had her first child, the wonderfully named Pyramus, while in a caravan on Dartmoor.
Back in Paris, Gwen, besotted with Rodin, was busy reinventing herself, perhaps in order to please her mentor, as a more rigorous, less carefree woman. With his encouragement she devoted herself to her painting, and began to develop the bleached palette that came to characterise her work. She remained frustrated in her desire to become Rodin's wife, however, and, when he died in 1917, her artistic habits became entrenched in grief, and in her newfound Catholic faith. She became reclusive in a village outside the city, painting the same scenes over and over again: self-portraits and interiors, a series of studies of the nuns at her local convent, pictures of solitary cats and of a convalescent neighbour. She developed her own unique method of painting, mixing chalk and plaster with her oils, building up fragile layers which lent her work its almost supernatural stillness.
Augustus, meanwhile, found him-self surrounded by an ever-increasing brood of children and an ever-expanding band of society admirers. He dressed with flamboyance in purple silk shirts and gypsy earrings and big hats; he painted travellers and learnt Romany, spending a lot of time in the south of France, visiting Picasso in his studio and sharing his home with his wife and lover and their children. After the death of Ida, in childbirth with their fifth son in 1907, Augustus lived with Dorelia, who continued to be his idealised model, as well as mother to his seven sons and two daughters. (Other children and more clandestine mothers emerged only later, to leave the final count of Augustus's offspring at 13.)
Though they never wholly forgot their early familial bond, Augustus and Gwen thus became more singular and detached from one another as the years passed. After the First World War, they were living very different lives, and painting very different pictures. For some of these reasons, it is now nearly 80 years since they have shared an exhibition space, which had been a habit of their early years. That fact, however, will change next month when Tate Britain puts brother and sister back together in a major retrospective.
The staging of the new show, which aims to cast fresh light on the shared inspiration and contrasting characters of the two artists, was in part the idea of the biographer Michael Holroyd, whose book on Augustus first exposed the detail of the painter's crowded romantic life. When Tate Modern and Tate Britain divided, Holroyd saw there might be a chance to reappraise Gwen and Augustus's work, and wrote to Tate director Sir Nicholas Serota to suggest it.
In a perverse way you could see this as a payment of dues. Holroyd's book, published in 1974, and revised in 1996, seemed effectively to shut down critical interest in Augustus's work: the dramatic life of the artist came wholly to overshadow the painting, completing a process that had begun in his lifetime. Augustus was subsequently written out of many art histories of the 20th century, while Gwen's reputation, as she was claimed by feminist writers, only grew.
Holroyd believes that the ebb and flow of their fortunes was in part a backlash against the imbalance of the notice they received while alive. Augustus, the archetypal artist-bohemian, was a national monument, never out of the papers and, according to one critic in 1914, 'the most famous artist in the world'. His sister, despite a strong critical reception, was virtually unknown. 'After both their deaths there was a feeling that Augustus had had all the attention while his sister had had none,' Holroyd suggests. 'That by the sheer force of his personality he had made her invisible. The many subsequent books about her have tended to make her a victim. This perception was actually a little false to the lives they both had, but it stuck.'
Augustus himself had started to feel the beginning of this trend after Gwen's death in 1939. In a letter of 1952, he wrote to correct an essay by a friend on the work of his sister: 'With our common contempt for sentimentality, Gwen and I were not opposites,' he insisted, 'but much the same really, but we took a different attitude. I am rarely exuberant. She was always so; latterly in a tragic way ... She was never "unnoticed" by those who had access to her.'
Despite these protestations, the caricature became fixed. In part, Augustus John's reputation was a casualty of his longevity. He continued to paint up until his death in 1961, by which time he was beached as a Romantic portrait painter in a world of resolute abstraction. Holroyd believes - 'strictly as an academic historian, obviously' - that Augustus lived too long, perhaps even 40 years too long. Had he died after the portrait of Thomas Hardy [1924], or even after that of Dylan Thomas [1936] 'he would have died with a reputation that would only have grown when we imagined what he would have gone on to achieve. He was above all a youthful lyrical artist,' Holroyd says, 'and that attitude does not age well.'
Oddly, given he was such a man of action, it was the Great War that undermined Augustus John as a painter. It seems to have left him unsure. In the years leading up to the war he was a creator of effortless figures in landscapes on small wooden panels, flooded with light and colour. At the time, his paintings were criticised for lacking drama, or a story, or for being just groups of static figures in space. 'In fact those paintings were about the absence of anecdote,' Holroyd suggests, and in this sense were ahead of their time. 'But style no longer seem-ed relevant to him after the war. And then he became a portrait painter, and quite a hit-or-miss one, at that.'
Gwen's career was the reverse. She felt her way toward her mature style, which offered something like the opposite of sensation. You could easily walk past her paintings, but once you looked they drew you in. They were similar to Augustus's in one respect, however: she also avoided story. 'Her paintings have the feeling of life being in the past,' Holroyd says. 'While his are all about possibility. He is before the action, before the curtain comes up, she is afterwards, once the theatre has emptied.'
When Holroyd began to work on his biography, he was fortunate to discover an ally in Dorelia, still alive in her eighties and living at the home she had shared with Augustus, Fryern Court at Fordingbridge. She persuaded his far-flung children - legitimate and otherwise - to co-operate. Still, Holroyd says, keeping all sides of the family on board was a major enterprise. 'That was the book that did most to increase my diplomatic skills.'
The current keepers of the flames of Augustus and Gwen are their grandchildren. The Tate exhibition has been shaped in part by Rebecca John, daughter of Caspar John - the late First Admiral of the Fleet - and granddaughter of Augustus and Ida. Now in her fifties, Rebecca lives in a top-floor flat in Covent Garden, and is herself an exquisite watercolourist.
One of the things she hopes the show will do is debunk the myth that there was great rivalry between the siblings. 'Augustus always felt protective toward Gwen,' she says. 'He gave her money. He introduced her to John Quinn, the great American collector, who supported her work. Augustus was a very generous man.'
She believes the exhibition will provide powerful evidence of their particular gifts. 'He outshines her completely as a draughtsman. Her drawing is extremely tentative. As in life, he just jumped straight in and did it with wonderful stark slashes of line. They were opposites in every way. He lived on the wing, and worked outdoors a lot of the time. She painted these extraordinary empty interiors. Their very Christian names seemed to set the agenda: Gwen is Welsh for white, the absence of colour. Augustus evokes gold.'
Her grandfather was 'very maddened', Rebecca believes, by the fact that Gwen bequeathed all her work to Edwin, his third son. Gwen had seen a lot of Edwin in Paris in her later life. He had been a boxer and she disapproved; she persuaded him to make an unusual career change and become a watercolourist.
In later life Edwin became very protective of Gwen's legacy. His daughter, Sara, who now lives in the Black Mountains, recalls how her father kept all Gwen's work 'very close to his heart. Augustus and my father discussed things and clouds would form over Fryern Court. They both fought over whether a book should be written about Gwen, that there should be exhibitions,' Sara says. Her father resisted much of that. As it was, the silence and mystery about Gwen, Rebecca believes, worked in her favour. 'When, on the death of Edwin, the estate was taken over by the dealer Anthony d'Offay,' she says, 'he knew just how to bring Gwen to a new audience. And the feminists swooped. It was such a beautiful scenario. Here she was, the quiet sister of this monstrous male ego who lived with two women and who had numerous children, taking herself off to Paris and living this secretive artistic life.'
Rebecca remembers her grandfather well in old age and is not convinced of that judgment. 'As a young man,' she says, showing me some photographs of Augustus wading in a river in his twenties, 'he was incredibly handsome, devastating. And he had a powerful effect on every woman who met him. They wanted him. But in retrospect he gets the blame, of course. One ridiculous story came from Caitlin Thomas [wife of Dylan] about being raped by him. Caitlin Thomas was a well-known bitch and fantasist.'
In a sense, Rebecca John believes that her grandfather has been a victim of the taste for obscurity in art. 'My own theory is that art today has to be incomprehensible. So Augustus is far too straightforward. You can't intellectualise with Augustus. He hated intellectuals. The fact is with him you have a beautiful figure, or a perfect line, or wonderful colour and that's it. I hear it about Augustus: "Oh he could draw as well as anyone in the world, but so what?"'
Champions of Gwen's work, by contrast, such as critic Lisa Tickner, see her painting as coming 'as close as perhaps an image can do to picturing consciousness'. No one has cracked the code of her colour and art historians love that repressed mystery. 'She was so profoundly deliberate,' Rebecca says. 'Augustus was anything but deliberate. He dashed things off, he had no attention span.'
All the grandchildren I speak to recall the trepidation they had at sitting for their grandfather as models. Anna John, daughter of Augustus's first son, David, remembers her summers at Fryern Court well. 'We would go down there for the holidays. He did not dandle us on his knee. He would sit at the far end of the table and we were supposed to entertain him so, of course, we used to fight to sit as far away as possible. I sat for him as a model a few times. He stamped and smoked and grunted all the while, paced about and insisted that you kept still. It was rather terrifying. Dodo [Dorelia] used to send one of us down to get him from his studio in the garden for lunchtime and you would knock on the door with great alarm at disturbing him from his work, and he would let out this tremendous shout.'
Rebecca recalls her grandfather's look. 'Everyone felt his glare. He was very deaf at the end of his life, so it was difficult to have a conversation with him. My father always used to say that by the time they got on, Augustus was so deaf that everything had to be shouted at him. He used to like the grandchildren to talk to him, though, but mostly that required too much courage for me. The only time I did pluck up the courage was when he asked me a booming question. One time it must have been about school, because all I can remember is that I said I was learning Latin. And he was rather impressed with that.'
Dorelia's strength of personality matched that of Augustus. 'You would never forget her,' Rebecca says. 'His drawings give you the wrong impression. She was not dreamy and limp-wristed. A lot of the figure drawings are very pre-Raphaelite, an attempt to idealise her. I knew her in old age, but I do not think she had changed dramatically. She was short in conversation, quite snappy, very down-to-earth, and she had a lovely little low giggle. Very, very alive.'
Sara John puts this more succinctly: 'She was absolutely wonderful,' she says, of one of the great artistic muses of the 20th century. 'But she wasn't a granny to knit you a pair of socks.'
Growing up, the grandchildren knew only the sketchiest outline of their grandparents' colourful past. 'Until Michael Holroyd wrote the biography, we did not know anything really,' Rebecca says. 'The book changed the life of the family. We had to read it to discover our history.'
The aspect of their legacy they did know about, though, was Augustus's once-great artistic reputation. Many of numerous grandchildren went to art college, but all laboured under the name they had inherited. Anna John, who subsequently married cartoonist John Glashan, went to St Martin's to do fine art, but: 'bearing this name for five years. Augustus was in the papers all the time. The bohemian lifestyle, as well as the work. Though it felt natural for me to draw, it was all rather impossible.' It has taken Rebecca, too, nearly all her life to realise the talent she feels she inherited. 'I studied jewellery design,' she says, 'but I was always happier with paper and pencil than blowtorch and metal. I liked the fine detail of leaves and shells, so I loved to draw, but I had a problem and that was my grandfather. In our family it was not considered wise to draw.'
Putting Gwen and Augustus together, she believes, is a 'bold' move on the part of the Tate. Curator David Fraser Jenkins has addressed this by concentrating on what the siblings had in common: what he describes as their shared 'outsiderliness' and a mutual need to escape. Holroyd likes to think of the show as an opportunity to look down both ends of a telescope at once: Augustus intent on making things larger than life, Gwen concentrating and distancing. Both painters seemed to have realised much the same thing. Augustus wrote of his sister in 1942 as the 'greatest woman artist of her age, or, as I think, of any other'. He predicted that 'In 50 years' time I will be known as the brother of Gwen John.' That his prophecy has all but come true, and that it would be his own reputation that was now seen in need of repair would perhaps have amused him. He would, in any case, after all these years, have enjoyed the prospect of equal billing.
· Gwen and Augustus John is at Tate Britain, London, from 29 September 2004 to 9 January 2005; Augustus John, Masterworks from Private Collections 1900-1920, Hazlitt Holland-Hibbert Gallery, 38 Bury Street, London SW1 (020 7839 7600) from 29 September to 29 October